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March 10th - 14th: The Jungle Road, Kuala Lumpur to Kota Bharu, Malaysia
March 10th: Kuala Lumpur to Kuala Lipis
KL to KL! I left Kuala Lumpur and the British High Commission after a fond
farewell to the sombre faced guards, to begin the ride into the Malay
interior towards the town of Kuala Lipis. 170 km lay ahead and a range
which made the Peak District's Snake Pass look more like a worm...
Initially, I took the three lane highway, skirting around the toll booths;
thankfully it was almost devoid of traffic and as smooth as marble. Then
quieter roads lead through the jungle, looping their way through the lush
undergrowth. I stopped at Bentong for a roti breakfast and at Raub, for
lunch, where I was recognised from one of the articles in the papers!
Now, the road ran along ridges and dropped down gorges, a cloak of jungle
all around. Almost everyone who past in cars and trucks poked their head
out and waved cheerfully. Kampongs became fewer, though there was rarely a
feeling of prolonged isolation. The road twisted and turned forever,
matching the contours of the murky brown Sungei River. The heat seemed to
accumulate throughout the day and it was with relief that I arrived in the
town of Kuala Lipis after a long day on the road. Met up with Tammy, Andrew
and Hilary (the UK bike tourers) and we opted for a Chinese supper. From an
unusual wall-chart-sized menu I was sorely tempted to sample sweet and sour
frog; the waitress led me into the kitchen to check the merchandise and
there they sat, still very much alive in their cages, watching us. Selling
out to table-pressure, I begrudgingly chose more familiar animal
consumption...
March 11th - 12th: Gua Maseng and Dabong
Over the next couple of days we cycled through the small town of Gua Musang
to Dabong, over a hilly road which left us all exhausted from the heat.
Rocky outcrops reached out of the land and stood dramatically to our sides.
We sighted a shiny black scorpion crossing the road and various dead
carcasses - apart from that, we were pretty much alone. In Gua Musang two
German tourers, Ronny and Kristin, arrived from the opposite direction -
they had been cycling in Thailand and Cambodia. As we all pulled up in
front of the Chinese hotel, the town looked on bewildered. I don't think
the locals had ever witnessed such a gathering of cyclists! Over supper we
exchanged tales of daring cycling deeds. After noticing that neither seemed
to be bitten by mosquitos, both Ronny and Kristin said that they had
dispensed with Malaria tablets and repellent, despite travelling through
some of the most malaria active zones! We listened enviously. Ronny,
however, couldn't stand spicy food; he had attached a great wok to his bike
in order to cook up his own spice-free noodles!
Heading on to Dabong, this tiny Malay village off the main road is served
only by the river and the Jungle Train. In the searing heat, the smooth
tarmac surface that we thought would lead there deteriorated into a washed
out track, rising and falling into the distance. There was nowhere to
escape, no shade to lurk in. Progress was slow and Hilary looked doubtful.
A pickup passed. 'If the worst comes to the worst, we can always get a
lift,' Andrew tried to reassure her, with a smile. That was the last car we
saw going in our direction... Dabong truly lay in the back of beyond, and
when we finally arrived, we were met by a gang of zealous kids who showed
us to the government rest house. In the evening we wandered down to one of
two little restaurants. The railway station, the focal point of the town,
looked like it had been caught in a time warp. From the lingering stares,
we guessed the tourist boom hadn't quite reached these parts.
March 13th: Jungle waterways and the road to Kota Bharu
I rose at 5.30am with the others, still in pitch black darkness, to
investigate rumours of the 6.30am river boat from Dabong to Kuala Kerai, as
there is no road between the two towns. However, our source was doubtful
whether (1) the boat would actually arrive, and (2) whether it could hold 3
bikes in its skinny hull. But sure enough as the hour came, we heard the
sound of an engine in the night air and we strained to catch sight of the
craft as it rounded the bend. As narrow as it was, conventional packing
theories were defied and bikes and baggage piled high. Setting off
downstream, the first light fought its way through the dark morning clouds
and the thick jungle canopy. The river was brown and sluggish around its
edges but in its centre the current was fast, ferrying logs and branches on
journeys of their own. In the morning light, the jungle was layered in hues
of misty blues and greys.
The 90 minute journey passed quickly as we watched these layers of forest
change shades; through them we caught glimpses of huts on tall stilts half
hidden in the foliage. Propelled forward by an enormous old car engine,
pistons pumping in and out, the boat travelled quickly and drowned out any
sounds of the forest; when the engine cut, the incessant insect sounds
could be heard once more. Deposited at a bamboo raft bobbing up and down,
we had reached our destination, and along with Malayasians off to the
market, we walked the gangplanks onto land with our bicycles slung over our
shoulders.
Once in Kuala Kurai, there was time for a fuel loading roti breakfast
before hitting the road to Kota Bharu. Though only 70 km away, the sun was
already beating down and we peddled quickly. Stopping to regroup and rest
in the shady open huts by the road, we feasted on deliciously sweet
watermelon. The scenery was quite different from the day before; the hilly
jungle range had sunk into nowhere and the road was lined with palm trees
and banana trees, their fruits sometimes close enough to touch as we sped
by. Buses and trucks hurtled past with friendly beeps and waves; busy
kampongs and all the life that goes with them kept things lively on the
road. At one point we saw an old man cycling along with a monkey; its hands
held the handlebars, its tail was curled around the frame.
Despite hearing that some Muslim areas of Malaysia are not as openly friendly as other parts, we were greeted with the usual waves, smiles and enthusiastic cries that I have come to expect. As I overtook a moped laden with children, one even reached out to shake my hand on the move!
March 13th - 14th: Kota Bharu, East Coast of the Malaysian Peninsula
First impressions of 'KB' are of a town with a much stricter adherence to
the Muslim faith. Women are covered from head to toe, a shawl hiding their
hair: sweet round faces peep out. Throughout the day there are breaks for
prayers, and impressive modern mosques tower high and catch the eye. The
contemporary architecture draws from Middle Eastern influences.
Like much of Malaysia, KB is also a town abundant with incongruous sights
and these are intrinsic to that unique 'Asianess' which catches the Western
eye but goes unnoticed by those living here. In a medical store, zimmer
frames are sold alongside ice creams... A herd of goats wanders through the
gleaming forecourt of a Shell service station at night...
In an octagonal building, the central market is rich in fruit and vegetables noises, colours and smells. Stall holders in their traditional Muslim headscarves sit amongst their colourful produce, swatting the flies; when viewed from the third floor, an intricate pattern of neatly laid out fruits and vegetables is formed. Winding passageways lead to unexpected discoveries and mysterious foods. Beggars reach out and shake their tins. Shock registers with the realisation that some are lepers, and just opposite, the McDonalds emporium has seized upon the town's internet frenzy to introduce its own McCyber Cafe...At lunch, it is packed with veil clad girls surfing the web, a symbol of traditional and modern Malaysia.
The night market also brims with culinary delights, offered by a throng of
stall holders who gather in the evening and stay till midnight. To a
foodie, everything looks tempting; particularly the Ayam Percik (chicken
cooked in a delicious coconut sauce) and the Pisang Murtabak (banana
pancakes that may be a little greasy, but are worth it just to watch the
skill with which they are made: sweeping figure of eight movements spins
the dough thin, speed sliced banana neatly folded in). Sit down and tuck
in. No knife or fork necessary - just make sure you eat with your right
hand...One women cut her way through the tables and chairs selling finger
sized bananas, a bunch laid out on her head like some strange hair style.
Andrew and I tucked into our pancakes, finally reaching our 'stillpoint' -
a full belly!
We're staying in a little guesthouse with shoe box rooms. They remind me of
the Monty Python sketch - 'A shoebox?!? We used to dreeeam of living in a
shoebox!' The fan sweeps the room in an attempt to cool it down, but in
vain. Regular showers after each foray into the streets below are the only
answer. I'm waiting to find out from Edwin and Louis, my KL cycling
friends, if they are able to join me for a week's cycle in Thailand, just
30 km away. Its been a tough few days over the inland range, particularly
due to the heat, so I'm glad to have a rest. In the meantime, I'll go and
investigate the Parentian Islands, a backpacker retreat just off the coast.
Home to the mythical white sand beaches...
